


Out of Luck

by whilewilde



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Everything is Fine and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Fluff, Forgetting, Pining, Stalking but in the wholesome way not the You way, clara is sad all the time, everyone is sad, so is the doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whilewilde/pseuds/whilewilde
Summary: Clara leaves behind a life of time travel for a normal 9-5, and a new start. What she had in mind for ‘new start’ wasn’t constantly thinking of the Doctor, and wether he would be okay on his own.Still, she has three very important questions to answer: Why does she keep dreaming of the Doctor, can she ever live a normal life? and who is that man who sits on the bench across from the coffee shop every day?
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald, Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald, whouffaldi - Relationship
Kudos: 13





	Out of Luck

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written for this pairings, and frankly, I am terrified to. However, I was aching to share my pain so here it is.

“Do you ever just get this feeling that someone is watching you?” Clara mused to work colleague, Amy Pond.

“Maybe you have a stalker- oh! Like that show, You.” 

Amy was far too enthusiastic to be talking about serial killers, bordering on creepy, Clara thought. She let it pass though; without Amy, she was practically alone on lunch breaks.

Adjusting to life without the Doctor had been harder than she had thought. She supposed that she would simply return to her ‘old’ life, and resign all of the adventures she had with her beloved friend to memory. It didn’t work like that, though.

Every second thought was about him. Clara worried if he was okay on his own, and if he was really on his own. Did he remember her? Did she even want to know?

She zoned out for a second, smiling at the reaction that she imagine the Doctor would have if he could see her now. He would scrunch his nose up, his face a perfect picture of bewilderment, and he would exclaim that she was mad to give up a lifetime of time travel for a 9-5 and ‘friends.’

It didn’t really matter anymore anyway, she told herself, forcing herself to concentrate on Amy’s tale of how annoying her flatmate is. 

For the Doctor, he had the luxury of forgetting. For Clara, Their past was simply to be resigned to her memory.

Across from the far too-overpriced (“independent”) coffee shop in Central London, the Doctor sat on a bench, watching the two figures inside talk and laugh from behind the glass. He couldn’t help his mouth from twitching into a small smile when he noticed Clara drift off for a second.

He wondered what she was thinking about. He allowed himself for a second to imagine that she was thinking of him, and hoping that he was doing alright on his own. Selfish, he knew, but at least he could be sure that way that she hadn’t forgotten him.

Watching her adapt to a normal way of living, lifetimes away from some of the galaxies they had explored, didn’t hurt as he had expected it to. His heart instead had swelled with pride. There she was- his Clara- doing whatever the hell she wanted, going against what was expected of her. That was the Clara he knew.

Fondness is rather funny, he noted, because it made you carry out the most pointless exercises just to see someone’s face again. He should’ve been off fighting aliens or saving the human race for the five-hundredth time, but he didn’t. He let himself indulge for once.

Losing people had taken its toll on the now haggard Doctor. Every time he was betrayed, or the universe forced him to part ways with someone he loved, he fought the hardest to keep his heart soft. To see Clara was a reminder that the universe was as cruel as he supposed it was.

His hearts momentarily sank as Clara roe to her feet and readied herself to leave. This ritual was one that the Doctor was far too familiar with. It meant that for today, at least it was over. Another day where he said nothing and let her get away again. 

“Perhaps she’s happier without my interference. She looks it.” The Doctor mumbled to himself, stuffing his hands into his pockets and thinking of a plan B.

If Clara could see the Doctor again (which was a thought that entered her head every single night, without fail) she would tell him that she wasn’t happy. She was coping, and they couldn’t be any more different.


End file.
